


Apocalypse and Apple Pie

by FangirlFiles



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Apple Pie, Aziraphale is a good boy, Character Death, Crowley is a supportive husband, M/M, The apocalypse that actually was this time, Two supernatural entities who love the world, but also a little bit of a bastard, but also filled with rage, ineffable husbands, the usual, the usual again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlFiles/pseuds/FangirlFiles
Summary: An angel and a demon mourn the end of the world with the help of the last human on Earth. And some apple pie of course, for irony's sake.





	Apocalypse and Apple Pie

_“We don’t have to stay here and watch this, Angel. We can go. Any time you like.”_

But of course not. Aziraphale stayed. He watched, and he cared, and it hurt. If it had just been Crowley on his own, he would have left as soon as the first shuttles were taking people to the newly colonized Mars. He would have laid claim to one of the first homes and recreated his old flat as well as he could (which would have been perfectly, with the help of a quick demonic miracle). But it wasn’t Crowley on his own, not now, and it hadn’t been for a very long time. Aziraphale and Crowley were an inseparable pair.

So, without a single complaint, Crowley also stayed. He watched, and he tried his hardest not to care, but it still hurt.

\--

They could fly there, or even appear with a snap of their fingers, but Aziraphale insisted on walking. He wanted to feel the dying Earth beneath his bare feet for as long as he could, he said. He wanted to soak her in through his heels and keep her with him somehow. So, they walked without stopping, wedging dirt between their toes and under their nails as if they could revive the planet with the touch of their divine skin.

Crowley hung back a few strides, tucking his fingertips into his pockets and watching his angel make the farewell pilgrimage. Aziraphale looked worn, frayed along the edges. His skin was tanned from the journey, a thin layer of scruff warmed his jaw, and his once bright eyes were dull and almost permanently misted. Beyond human perception, not that it mattered now, his wings drooped and his feathers lacked their usual heavenly shine. Heaven’s attention had moved elsewhere and the angel hadn’t yet followed. It was only getting worse.

“M’tired, Angel. Let’s stop. We’ll get there tomorrow either way,” Crowley complained, his hips sagging as he planted his feet on the path. He pulled his hands out from his pockets and stretched them out over his head before letting them swing loosely at his sides, making a dramatic show of his aching body. The request to stop was entirely for himself, of course. It wasn’t at all for Aziraphale (It was. Completely. They both knew it, too).

Aziraphale blinked, pulled from his thoughtful stupor as he turned to watch the performance. His expression flickered between disapproval and gratefulness, before it finally settled with a nod. “Oh, alright. But only a short break. We’re running out of time, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Crowley said as he looked around, finding an old rusted bench nearby. Perfect. He flopped himself heavily on it, his knees unfolding to the sides as he stretched his arms along the back of it.

Aziraphale blinked again. Crowley had taken up the entire bench in his sprawling. A wave of Crowley’s hand cleared up his confusion and the angel’s face softened. They had done this many times before. He settled himself on the ground in front of the bench, not minding the dirt one bit, and he let his wings unfurl over the demon’s lap.

Crowley set to work. His fingers gently ran through the soft feathers, straightening them and massaging in the natural oils to restore their sheen. Aziraphale had never been good at grooming his own wings, often finding himself coated in a thin layer of bookshop dust. Though, it had been a long while since their bookshop days. Crowley had taken it upon himself to maintain them for him. His angel should always shine.

“She’s the last of them,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley couldn’t see his face, but he knew his eyes were closed, imagining what they would see when they arrived at the home of the last human on Earth.

“Not really. They’re like cockroaches, you never can quite stomp them out.” Aziraphale bristled at the comparison and Crowley backtracked, “er, in a good way. They’ve spread to Mars and before long they’ll spread across the rest of the universe too.”

With a quiet sigh, Aziraphale leaned back more comfortably against Crowley’s knees. “I mean she’s the last one here. On Earth, their home.”

“I know what you meant, Angel.”

They fell silent as Crowley finished, turning his attention to Aziraphale’s pale curls instead. He had to be the messiest angel, always frizzy and fussed, too busy with other thoughts to focus on the state of himself (though his clothes were a different story. Those were always carefully cared for. Vintage). He turned between Crowley’s knees and rested his crossed arms on the demon’s thigh, closing his eyes. Finally, he would take a much-needed rest.

With his angel taken care of, Crowley finally let himself look at the world around them.

It was desolate and dirty. The humans as a whole had tried, at the end. When it was clear that it was beyond saving, many of them had tried to bury it to rest in the best ways that they could. But others, those with more power, tossed it aside off the rim of a metaphorical garbage bin and let it fall to the ground without a care. They didn’t seem to feel the pain of being forced away from their home through fire, flame, and rocket fuel. They should.

But their situation and his were entirely different matters, he reminded himself, of course they wouldn’t understand.

Everything was brown, nothing growing in sight here or anywhere else. Crowley would scream at the entire world to grow if he could, to turn green again for his angel who loved it so much. And for himself who loved it just as much, though admitting that would make the loss hurt more.

The buildings around them had begun to crumble, glass cracked and shimmering along the ground at the edges where dirt met brick and drywall. It had taken many years to get to this point. They watched the humans scramble for their own survival, finding hope in other planets and making it to Mars at the last moments. They had been kind, bringing more people than Crowley had expected. It wasn’t just the rich. It wasn’t just the seemingly more important. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Many had been left behind. Those who didn’t want to go, and those who did but couldn’t make the trip. They had survived for longer than they had all expected as the angels and demons observed. Crowley had wanted to leave as soon as he could, but Aziraphale wanted to stay. He wanted to help, and he wanted to say goodbye. Crowley agreed. They began to die, and Crowley ached to leave again. Aziraphale couldn’t tear himself away, especially not now. So, they journeyed instead. They walked across God’s brown Earth and stopped to visit each of the humans that remained, giving them a bit of light before they were gone. Though that was more Aziraphale’s doing than Crowley’s. He stood on the sidelines, waiting.

Now their journey was almost over.

“We should keep going,” Aziraphale whispered, a badly disguised exhaustion in his voice. He had slept for only a few minutes, but it would have to do. Crowley knew he wouldn’t get any more out of him.

“Alright.”

\--

The house was pristine. Well, as pristine as a house could be at the end of the world. It showed signs of a once brilliant garden that made Crowley’s heart twinge in his chest. There was a worn-out welcome mat and faded valances over the windows. It looked like a home.

Aziraphale wasted no time in stepping up to the front door, straightening himself up with a roll of his shoulders and knocking three distinct knocks. Crowley hung back with his hands in his pockets, one hip jutted out to the side. He didn’t feel like he belonged on this journey, but he was there. He would watch quietly, as he always did. This wasn’t the time or place for demonic mischief. Let it be known though, as soon as he got to Mars, he would be unleashing all of the mischief that had been building up inside of him. It would be chaos, and he would be delighted.

They waited for a few minutes before Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, unsure. They couldn’t be too late, could they? If the last human were gone, they would have felt it, just as they had increasingly felt the loss of each one as their numbers dwindled. It had gone from a subtle awareness to a punch in the gut every time. No, it was definite. There was still a life in that house.

Movement in the window caught Crowley’s eye and he pointed to the door just as it opened, revealing, dare he say it, the most cliché, kind-looking old lady that he had ever seen. With silver hair and a deeply lined face, he could see her hundreds of years in the past wearing a pink floral apron and holding a perfectly latticed apple pie in her hands. It just felt right. “Sorry boys, it takes an old woman a few minutes to get to the door these days. But if I had known that I was going to have visitors, I would have cleaned up.”

Aziraphale turned to her, shocked by the blatant and immediate trust that they had been given, then he fell into a gleeful laugh. In that moment, he was a bookshop owner in bustling Soho again, and Crowley couldn’t help the way the corner of his mouth twitched upward. That was his angel, stunning and ethereal. Every part of him seemed to brighten. This was simultaneously the best and worst part of their journey for Crowley. Seeing Aziraphale back to himself made him feel like everything was alright again, but it was also painfully performative. Every moment of his joy drained him more, and his frivolous miracles had only increased to spite it.

A bouquet of daisies appeared behind Aziraphale’s back and he brought it forward with his signature dramatic, someone help him, _whooshing_ sound effect, holding it out to her. “Your home is lovely, as are you.”

Heaven had moved with the humans, and their power with it. Aziraphale was working with a low battery, and he wasn’t holding back. It was endearing, but Crowley wanted to grab his hands and scream at him to stop it, to save his energy for their journey off of this planet instead. He refrained. The reaction was always worth it, anyway.

Her face was stunned, staring at the bouquet with her mouth agape. “Are those real?” She carefully reached out and took them, bringing them to her nose and breathing deeply as her eyelids fluttered closed. She was inhaling a touch of Heaven, and she clearly appreciated it for all that it was worth. “Sweetheart,” she finally spoke again with a strange sort of mischief in her voice, “how on Earth did you manage this?”

Crowley felt like he should recognize the glint in her eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t place it.

“Call it a miracle.” Aziraphale was positively beaming as he held out a hand.

As she reached out and shook it, her frail fingers seemed to get lost in his grip. They were slim and bonier than Crowley himself. He was all angles and she was all joints. He could only imagine how they ached. “My name is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

“Eve,” she said softly.

Crowley snorted, then immediately shook his head and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Sorry- It’s just er, a tad ironic.”

“Dear, perhaps this isn’t the time,” Aziraphale scolded lightly.

“Come on, Angel. You know it is. Just a smidge. Or more. Definitely more.” Crowley grinned and joined the two on the doorstep, shaking her hand as well with a playful bow. “As he said, the name’s Anthony J. Crowley. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He was pleased to see her cheeks turn rosy as her eyes crinkled with smile lines. He still had his charm. “Now, as lovely as all of this is,” she began, “I can’t help but feel that we’ve skipped over a very important question.”

“And what would that be?” Crowley urged. He couldn’t help but get involved with this one. Part of him, the part that he was currently entertaining, was highly amused by the irony of her name. God still had a sense of humor, it seemed. The other part, which he stomped down with a mighty aggression, was inexplicably furious. It was just a reminder of how all of this was intentional. All part of a _plan. _It always was. Everything that went right was thanks to the plan and everything that went wrong was just an inevitable part of it. This was another tick on the list of things that hurt that could have been avoided if God only saw him, only cared enough to ease his suffering. Just this once. Not even for him, but for all of the life that this planet had been teeming with. For Aziraphale.

He gave his fury another stomp down and returned his attention to the woman before him.

“What on Earth are two handsome boys doing on my doorstep at the end of the world?”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale gave his usual scripted response. It was enough for her to let them inside. It always was.

\--

Crowley surveyed the area as she guided them into the living room, poking his head unsubtly into doorways. The interior of the house was just as cliché as the exterior, with lace doilies and fake potted plants everywhere. No one could get their hands on proper plants these days, (not even Crowley without the help of a demonic miracle, and even with that it was far too much work) so the fake ones had become all the rage. She had fading pink wallpaper and a plush, rosy carpet. Crowley had no idea how she hadn’t just crawled straight out of the past and plopped herself here. It really didn’t belong in this time period.

It looked perfect at first glance, but a closer look revealed a thin layer of dust over everything. Food ration tins and wrappers were piled just out of sight in a corner of the kitchen. There was a slight stench to her and her clothing, heavily covered by a flowery perfume. She kept up appearances as well as she could, but she was clearly struggling to care for herself at this point in her life. Aging was one thing, aging alone was another.

She didn’t seem to mind his intrusive spying though, gratefully accepting Aziraphale’s help to settle down into a rocking chair with popping joints and a weary sigh. It seemed like she was just happy for the company, and maybe she knew she was close enough to the end that it didn’t matter if they were raiders come to steal everything from her.

“Thank you. Now please, do sit. Talk to me, tell me about the world.” She gestured to the couch across from her with a soft smile.

“The world is beautiful, even now,” Aziraphale said with a soft longing as he did as he was told. He looked up at Crowley, expecting him to join, but the demon pretended not to notice. He was occupying himself looking at pictures instead. Aziraphale quickly accepted his distraction and carried on alone. “I’ll tell you anything you like, but I want to hear about you and your life, too.”

Crowley only kept half of his attention on the conversation, matching up her words with the pictures on her mantle. He picked one up and held it carefully. Smiling faces stared back at him as he dusted off the glass. Two women standing on the front porch, the more proper and poised one clearly being Eve. She stood next to another who hung an arm over her shoulders with a blinding, playful grin, holding up a peace sign with her fingers. They were married, if the matching rings on their fingers had anything to say about it. Three kids, two boys and one girl, sitting on the porch step and looking like they were playfully teasing each other. It had been a while since Crowley had seen such life. He ached to join them, up there on the red planet. He had a soft spot for kids.

He could imagine them all, running around this house and filling it with noise and joy. The mischief the kids could have gotten up to, stealing cookies and fighting over toys. Screaming tantrums scattered between happy laughter. Tired parents flopping down on the couch once the kids had gone to bed, expecting a night alone but interrupted by the youngest child with a nightmare instead. Stolen sex in the moments where the kids were at school or with friends. Covering for each other when they got caught getting into trouble. All of those cliché things to fit this cliché house and its cliché resident. He longed for it. He would never admit how he longed.

“—remember the sunset, before the sky was filled with too much dust to—"

Eve was cut off by Crowley interjecting. “What happened to your family?” He held up the photo, turning to address the two that had been deep in conversation for a while now.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale warned. They were here to help them, not to hurt them by bringing up memories of the past. Crowley ignored it.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Bring it here, please,” she said, holding out a lightly trembling hand.

He brought it to her, watching her run her fingertips over each of the faces and smile. Slowly, he moved back to join Aziraphale on the couch. He sat on the very edge, leaning his elbows on his sprawled-out knees and watching her like prey, not intending to miss a single emotion that passed over her face. Aziraphale’s fingertips trailed along his inner forearm and took his hand, pulling it into his own lap and lacing their fingers together as he leaned forward too. They watched intently together.

“This is Rose,” Eve began, with a small upward curve on her lips. Aziraphale’s fingers tightened in Crowley’s, reacting to the tangible feeling of love that had burst from her. “She was the brightest of us, the best of us. She was so smart, and such a wonderful mother…”

Crowley took note of the past tense. He had assumed, but there was the possibility that she had left with the kids, taking them to their new safe haven. The kids. That’s what he needed to hear about. Tell him about the kids.

“Charlie, the oldest… he has her smarts. He’s a scientist, you know. He helped with the plans to fit people on the rockets. He tried so hard to get me to come with him… Ada, the middle child, here,” she pointed to the girl in the photograph, holding it out so Aziraphale could see. “She does maintenance on the space station. She’s so good with her hands, she can fix everything. Used to fix the television set for me to get channels I wasn’t meant to have, little devil.” Her eyes glanced up at Crowley, who suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. He wasn’t sure what that look had meant, and the timing of it set him on edge. “And the baby, Oliver. He’s going to school. I think he still is, anyway. Last time I spoke to him he talked about dropping out… but I like to imagine that he’s still studying art…”

They were alive and thriving, it seemed. Present tense. Crowley leaned back, letting his thigh fall against Aziraphale’s in relief. He made a mental note to find Ada when they finally joined the rest of the humans. She seemed like she would be fun.

“They sound lovely,” Aziraphale said, his eyes lighting up with delight.

“Oh, they are,” Eve smiled widely, remembering more that she wasn’t saying. “They are.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Crowley asked.

She shook her head, the smile falling. “I don’t belong up there. This is my home…” Then her face hardened, and the story was over. “I’m sorry boys, but I need my rest.”

Crowley wanted to ask so many more questions, but Aziraphale nodded and stood, pulling Crowley along with him. He led them to the kitchen while she leaned back and closed her eyes. It was such an abrupt stop to the conversation. Crowley wanted to shake her until she opened her eyes and continued her story. He needed to know why she didn’t go with her family. They were hers, and she belonged with them, not with this dying shell of a planet. People aren’t supposed to shove their children out and stay behind without a word.

As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Aziraphale’s arms were around Crowley’s shoulders and wrapping him into a hug. “I’m sorry for making you do this with me, dear. I know it’s difficult.”

“I chose to stay,” Crowley muttered, staying perfectly still. He had too many things on his mind. It felt like he was being torn in two. But that wasn’t the point, they weren’t talking about him. They were supposed to be talking about her family. He wanted to charge right back in there, but Aziraphale didn’t release him.

“For me. You want to be up there. I know it’s hurting you.” Aziraphale leaned back to look at him, pressing a warm hand to his cheek. Maybe he was just an angel high off the love that he had felt from her, but his eyes were damp. “You love them all so much, I know it’s hard for you to—”

“They’re cockroaches, like I said,” Crowley hissed, trampling whatever compliments and reassurances Aziraphale was planning on giving him. “They ruin what they’re given, and they abandon it like it doesn’t even matter. They killed our planet and they’ll kill the next one too, and the next one and the one after that. They’ll kill their way through the entire galaxy if they’re allowed.”

Aziraphale let him ride out his outburst with practiced patience, his hand falling from Crowley’s cheek to his chest. He would wait until Crowley was done, until his rage had cooled from an angry boil to a simmer, and then they would talk. But that didn’t happen, not this time. Crowley squirmed out of the angel’s grip and stormed off to the porch, slamming the door behind him. Aziraphale didn’t follow.

A dust storm had kicked off outside, but it didn’t dare touch him right now. He stomped down the steps, turned, and gave them a swift kick accented by a loud growl. Then he sank down onto the lowest step and hung his head in his hands. “You just sit up there and let them destroy everything that matters,” he mumbled. “You can’t just step in for once, can’t just help them clean up their mess this one time.”

He slammed his fist down onto the wood and turned his face to the dirty sky. “You call them your children, but you don’t even bother to guide them! They pray to you! How many begged you to fix this? You could have. You could have saved everything!”

This was pointless, he knew, and he slumped down to lay on those steps and stare at the ground. Getting angry wouldn’t change anything. What was he doing having this outburst now, anyway? It was the same old thing. He should be used to it by now.

He had just wanted things to stay the same. He had finally settled into a life that he could get used to. He had planted roots and he didn’t even have to yell at them to grow. They burst up through the ground and blossomed more beautifully than he could have ever imagined. His life with Aziraphale was perfect until the world went to shit. He thought that the big one would be Heaven and Hell versus the humans, but he was wrong. It was Heaven and Hell and the humans versus Crowley and the planet. He loved them, but he also hated them. That’s where his anger lied. He had made his home with them and they betrayed him.

Maybe he wouldn’t go join them on Mars. Maybe he would just lay on this stoop until the world swallowed him up in its last dying breaths.

Aziraphale wouldn’t let that happen.

He still wanted to join them, anyway. If only to make their lives hell (he couldn’t help but love them, still).

\--

Eventually, he put himself back together and reentered the house. Everything had been cleaned to a shine, and Crowley cursed himself for leaving Aziraphale to his own devices. He didn’t have enough left in him to be doing all of this for her. Crowley found him after a few minutes of exploration, cleaning the bathroom sink by hand. His sleeves were rolled up, a sponge held tightly in his hands. So, it wasn’t by miracles after all. Was he unable, or did he just want to keep his hands busy? Crowley didn’t ask.

“You’re awful at that, give it to me,” Crowley muttered as he pushed Aziraphale aside and snatched the sponge.

Aziraphale looked unbothered, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and watching him. It was a familiar gaze, taking stock of the hurt and the anger and organizing it into the right places of understanding. “You and Eve have more in common than you think,” he finally said.

“Ah, the Biblical names. You caught that too. You’ve always been so clever.” It was a lazy deflection, and he really hadn’t expected it to work. It was completely ignored, and rightly so.

“She loves the world so much that she couldn’t leave it behind. You love it so much that you wanted to leave, before it made you accept that it’s dying.” His tone was gentle, making Crowley bristle down to his core as he aggressively scrubbed the porcelain sink. “I know you’re angry, dear. I hate to admit it, but so am I.”

Crowley’s hands stilled, his fingertips digging into the edge of the counter.

“It has been a while since you baked, hasn’t it?”

“Er- what?” That comment had hit him like a foul ball. Where had that come from? He turned to blink at Aziraphale in confusion, met with a smug grin. That bastard of an angel was up to something. It had completely sideswiped his rage and sent it hurtling off into space.

Standing, Aziraphale rolled his sleeves back down and straightened his tartan bowtie. “I’ve heard that you can do a lot with an apple. Surely that hasn’t changed?”

It was said like a challenge, one that Crowley would definitely meet head on. Before he could respond, Aziraphale gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and disappeared from the bathroom, leaving Crowley to continue scrubbing. Wait. He suddenly realized that he had been roped into finishing the cleaning.

“Bless it,” he hissed.

\--

The smell of apples and cinnamon wafted through the house, and Crowley was proud to say that it was absolutely devilish. Not even Aziraphale would dare to call it heavenly. He had imagined Eve as the one with the apple pie, but now it was him. He had even found a pink floral apron, just as he had expected. He had tied that around his waist the moment he saw it, of course.

“Is that…?” Eve’s groggy voice drifted in from the living room as she woke and Crowley grinned.

“It is,” Aziraphale’s voice confirmed, that bastardly mischief still in his voice.

If God wanted to be ironic, then so would Crowley. He would watch Eve take a bite and he would revel in it. The first and last women on Earth would taste the forbidden fruit under his watchful eye. It wouldn’t do much, of course. Not at this point. But for Crowley, it was just the amount of spite that he needed to get through all of this until they could leave and put it all behind them. He would pretend it never happened, and every day would bring him further away from the end of the world. Just like the 1400s.

He focused on his presentation, perfectly cutting the slices and setting them onto plates. When he brought them out, he had a sharp grin on his face, laying on the charm. He was thrilled by her hungry eyes, immediately reaching out for the plate and bringing it up to her nose just as she had done with Aziraphale’s flowers. After she had savored the scent, she looked at Crowley with a raised eyebrow, suspicious and amused. “Dare I ask where you got the apples?”

“Better not,” Crowley purred as he turned and handed Aziraphale a plate, settling onto the couch next to him with one of his own. “But I will tell you, they are _sinfully_ delicious.”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Aziraphale sighed fondly with a roll of his eyes. The demon was playing it up too much, but he seemed to enjoy it just a little bit.

Eve didn’t seem to mind the questionable sources, digging into the pie like it was the first meal she had ever eaten. It had been a while since she had eaten real food, if her ration remains were to be trusted. Crowley watched, feeling just the right amount of satisfaction to tide him over. Then he glanced to Aziraphale, and that satisfaction only grew. Take that, God. There was an angel devouring the fruit of knowledge, knowing exactly what it was. Or, what it was a descendant of at least. Apples had lost that power as soon as the first one had been bitten into, but the metaphor still stood.

They ate in silence, each savoring the taste of real food for the first time in a while. It wasn’t quite as good as the real thing, being cheated up by a demonic miracle, but it seemed even better in the current times. Finally, Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and set his plate on the coffee table in front of him.

“Eve,” he began, his shoulders back and chin up, determined. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?” She said, lowering her fork to her plate and looking at him expectantly.

Then with a whoosh of air that tickled the back of Crowley’s neck, Aziraphale’s wings extended into the realm of human perception. “I am an angel, and Crowley is a demon.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He had not been given the whole ‘revealing Heaven and Hell to the human’ memo, but apparently _that _was a thing now. There wasn’t even any build up to it. No dramatics. He just kind of, let loose and revealed the secret like it was nothing. Aziraphale nudged him and Crowley sighed. Fine, dramatics be damned, then. He let his own black wings stretch out behind him as well with a shrug. He muttered, “the fruit of knowledge strikes again.”

There was no extreme reaction, no shock or surprise. They had never revealed themselves to a human before (well, not without the whole dramatic build-up of killing the four horsemen and stopping Satan himself. That hadn’t exactly been an intentional revelation, and the humans didn’t even remember it, so it didn’t count), but he had expected at least… well, something.

“Is that all?” She asked, taking another bite of pie.

“Er, yes. That’s… all.” Aziraphale was dumbfounded, looking at each other’s wings to make sure they were there and glancing at Crowley, who only returned the questioning look with another shrug. Until-

“Wait. You’ve known the whole time!” Crowley realized abruptly, setting his own plate down on the table with a clatter. “That’s why you trusted us. That’s why you weren’t surprised by the flowers!” He laughed with a snake-like roll of his head. “Ooh, you’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?”

Eve laughed then, a tired sound that seemed to get stuck in her chest halfway up. “When you’re as close to death as I am, and far from the rest of humanity, I think Heaven and Hell stop caring about their secrets so much.”

Aziraphale was taking a bit longer on the uptake. “But… why didn’t you say anything?”

“What would I say? It didn’t matter to me. I just enjoyed the company. Though I really wasn’t expecting you to reveal your secret. So, if it makes you feel any better, I am a little surprised.” Eve gave him a slightly apologetic smile.

“I… wanted you to know that you were being looked after. You’re the last person on Earth, and—”

Shaking his head, Crowley made a gesture for Aziraphale to shush. He hadn’t meant to tell her that part. He didn’t want to make her feel alone.

Eve set her plate down on her lap, letting out a slow breath. That was definitely news to her. “Wow. I guess…” Crowley braced himself for an influx of human emotion, but it didn’t come. “I really stuck it out then, didn’t I?”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked, surprised by this woman yet again. She had accepted all of this already, it seemed. Crowley wondered for a moment why they were even there. She had the whole moving on thing down to a science.

Eve shook her head, leaning back in her rocking chair and closing her eyes. She didn’t want to discuss it further, clearly. She looked tired, and her hands hung loosely off the arms of the rocker. Crowley had another sudden realization, that she was far worse off than she seemed.

With a dismissive sigh, she changed the subject. “Tell me about the world, Aziraphale. All of it. And don’t leave out any of the parts about you two.”

Aziraphale looked completely unsure of what to do. But she had made a request, and he wasn’t about to deny it. “Well…” He looked to Crowley, seeking permission and receiving a nod in return. It was a good story to end with. “In the beginning, there was a garden. He was a wily serpent, and I was on apple tree duty…”

\--

It hurt, when she was gone. Crowley felt it tear at his chest, but Aziraphale was the one who had it the worst. He sat on his knees by her side for a long time, both of his hands holding one of hers. There were other humans, she wasn’t the last, but she was special.

“So,” Aziraphale finally said after a long time of mourning. It looked like he was praying, but there was nothing left to pray for. “They’ve finally left the garden.”

Crowley set a hand on his shoulder, his voice soft and low. “They left the garden a long time ago.”

“I know, but… this one really felt like Eden. To me.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, tears falling from his eyes. It finally made sense then, why he had to make this journey. They had all been forced out of Eden once the humans fell. Even the angels had been sent away to Heaven, leaving the garden to die behind stone walls and locked gates. But to Aziraphale, he had found it again. He had loved it and cared for it, and despite his efforts, he was being locked out of it again. The gates would be closing soon.

“Oh, Angel.” Crowley gently took Aziraphale’s chin in his hand and pulled him up to his feet, kissing his temple. He didn’t have words of encouragement, that wasn’t his strong point, but Aziraphale could feel everything that he needed to hear rolling off of him in waves. He had done his job. He had gone above and beyond. While Heaven had moved on, he stayed to finish what had to be done. “Let’s put this garden to rest. We’ll build a new one, wherever you want to go.”

\--

They buried her in the dirt just off the front porch step. No miracles did it for them, just shovels, sweat, and hard work led by heart ache. When they were finished, they swept the dirt away from the porch and left the welcome mat clean. She would have wanted it ready for any potential visitors, even if they weren’t coming.

When it was done, they climbed the tallest hill around and sat at the top of it. The sun was setting, burning red behind the dust and the dirt and the crumbling atmosphere. It was horrifying, but it was also somehow beautiful.

“A long time ago, you wondered if you did the right thing,” Aziraphale said quietly, staring into the sky. “Giving them knowledge, setting them free. I think you did.”

“Don’t tell anyone else that,” Crowley sneered, staring at Aziraphale. He had seen the burning sky before. He didn’t need to say goodbye to it. It hurt too much. But looking at his angel and hearing him say that he had done the right thing all those years ago… that was what mattered. He had tried to run away from it, but he couldn’t do that this time. Crowley wasn’t one for goodbyes, but he would let Aziraphale say his.

“I wish we had more time.”

Crowley knew that tone. It was the one that Aziraphale used when he wanted something that he didn’t feel he deserved, that he couldn’t bring himself to request. His lower lip curled between his teeth, contemplating. He really couldn’t say no though, now, could he? Definitely not (It was just a stain on an old jacket, the end of the world). “A few minutes, but that’s all I can give.”

He stood, closing his eyes and lifting his hands, bringing up the last drops of Hell power remaining in this place. Time came to an abrupt stop. The dust stilled and the sun hung like a still portrait in the sky. Aziraphale inhaled deeply, lifting his chin and feeling the warmth on his face. He was beautiful, and he was sad.

Crowley stood beside him and waited, not daring to speak or touch. And maybe when he felt his power to stop time coming to an end, he looked at the sky too. And just maybe, for a second that wasn’t, he let himself feel the warmth of the sun too, the gentle burning that wasn’t Hellfire, but that gave life to the world. But he definitely managed to say goodbye, despite how it hurt. This time he would fly upward out of Eden.

Aziraphale didn’t need to say thank you, and Crowley didn’t want to hear it. When time resumed, he knew that they were finished. Their pilgrimage was finally over.

“Can we make a pit stop on the way?” The angel asked as the sun dipped down below the horizon.

“Of course, Angel. Where to?”

“Alpha Centauri.”

The demon smiled and took the angel’s hand, finally leaving the Earth behind. The gates closed and locked. Something shifted beneath the dirt of a home that held just enough love, and just enough defiance, to give life to something new.

Roots burst forth from an apple seed. Maybe it really was all part of the plan, not that Crowley would ever know that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and I really hope that you enjoyed it. I feel like I've strayed from my skills in the last few works that I've done, but I really feel like I'm back to my roots with this one!! I hope that it touches you in some way, as the story has touched me since it popped into my head and refused to leave.


End file.
